


Take It Slow

by tuesday



Series: Take It Slow [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Canon-Typical Violence, Dating, Didn't Know They Were Dating, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Miscommunication, Not Canon Compliant, Past Michelle Jones/Peter Parker - Freeform, Past Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Pining, Undercover as a Couple, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-19 03:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20324314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: There were a ton of reasons dating Peter was a bad idea.  Tony loved bad ideas.  He was going to do it anyway.In which Tony thinks they're dating, and then they're dating undercover.





	Take It Slow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pleurer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/gifts).

> Recip, I hope you enjoy this extra gift! Written for the tag, "Character A pines while Character B Thinks They're Already Dating," but I tried to fit in some of your other likes, too.
> 
> This is not canon compliant in some very obvious ways, not least being Tony surviving to see Peter in college.
> 
> Redating for reveals. Sorry if you somehow manage to see this twice!
> 
> Personal notes: OPD: 8/20. AOD: 8/21.

Tony and Peter had met when Peter was fourteen, and no, him being nearly fifteen at the time didn't make it any better. Tony had acted as a mentor to Peter for years, even if Peter would have been just fine without Tony and had been a superhero for six months before Tony stuck his nose into Spider-Man's business. Tony was thirty years older than Peter. Tony was a billionaire who was not very secretly paying the last of Peter's college tuition as part of a superhero scholarship fund. Peter had dated any number of girls, but he'd never had a serious boyfriend before. He was getting over another break-up with M.J.

The list went on: Tony was smarting from his divorce, no matter how amicable it was and what Pepper had said about staying friends. (Tony wasn't a fan of confronting his own failures, and oh, boy, what a delightful failure that marriage had been.) Pepper had known Tony for decades and knew from the start exactly what sort of bullshit she was signing up for, and they still couldn't make it work. Peter and Tony were both batting zero for successful relationships well balanced with the superhero thing.

There were a ton of reasons dating Peter was a bad idea. Tony loved bad ideas. He was going to do it anyway.

But Peter was so, so important to Tony. Tony couldn't fuck this up. He needed to take it slow, to be careful and considerate of the differences in age, experience, and where they were in their lives. And honestly, it wasn't that much of a hardship to keep it in his pants.

(Okay, it was a hardship, but it was one Tony was willing to sign onto if the other option was taking things too fast and scaring Peter off for good.)

Tony was deliberate in his plans. For their first date, something unrelated to superheroing. He wanted to get Peter to see Tony in a new context. Somewhere public, where Tony would have to behave, because it wasn't like Peter had ever told Tony no where it really mattered and he probably wasn't about to start an exciting new career of it once they started dating. Somewhere private, where they could actually talk. Something Peter could enjoy, but which was outside his usual experiences.

"What are you doing this weekend?" Tony asked Peter when he caught him at the lab making extra web fluid and experimenting with a few new formulas. The question was pro forma, the done thing, floating intent with a few traditional words. Tony would have asked Peter out for coffee, but most coffee prepared by other people was terrible, and Tony would like to concentrate on their date, not risk getting swarmed by fans in a cafe somewhere.

"I don't have plans," Peter said, which was pretty much a yes to start.

"How do you feel about golf?"

"I've tried putt-putt?" Why was that a question? Had he or hadn't he? Maybe Peter wanted to play putt-putt instead. Should Tony see about renting out a mini golf course for the weekend instead of an upstate country club? "Not really a lot of opportunities for golfing in Queens."

"So it'll be something new," Tony said, pleased. "I'll get you clubs. You can wear whatever. The golf shirt and khakis aren't actually required."

"Is this for a mission or something?" Peter asked. Was that actually a gentle no? Was Peter letting Tony down easy? Tony was possibly going to drive himself crazy second-guessing this, and they hadn't even gotten to the actual date yet.

"No mission. Personal business only," Tony clarified, emphasizing the very date-like nature of what they'd be doing. "Just the two of us spending a little quality time together."

"Do I get to drive a golf cart?" Peter asked. "That always seemed like the best part of golfing from T.V. Not that I don't want to go! I'm happy to go even if I don't get to drive."

"Honey, I will buy you a golf cart," Tony said.

"… 'Honey'?" 

Right. Too soon for pet names going by the confused expression on Peter's face. 

_Take it slow,_ Tony reminded himself. "Slip of the tongue. What time should I pick you up?"

"I don't even know what day it's going to be," Peter said.

"I was thinking Saturday, but we could make it Sunday instead if you'd like. Tee time is at our discretion." Tony shifted his weight. Was it too soon to start talking in "we"s and "our"s? Tony was pretty sure that Peter had wanted this for at least as long as Tony had, but that seemed a step further than casual endearments. "Or yours, now. You decide."

"People usually start early, right? How does seven sound?" 

Later than some of Tony's contemporaries had suggested over the years, but earlier than Tony had ever dragged himself to the green. "Seven sounds perfect."

Peter smiled, and Tony grinned helplessly back at him. He wanted to go in for a kiss, but—slow. Tony could do slow. He settled for stepping in close and putting a hand to the back of Peter's neck. He squeezed gently. He was seriously, seriously considering throwing over slow in favor of seeing if Peter wanted to commit some flagrant lab safety violations—specifically everything to do with biohazards and human body fluids—when he glanced over Peter's shoulder and saw the substance in the beaker foaming up and turning orange.

"Is it supposed to do that?" Tony asked.

"Oh, crap! I got distracted. That's not—!" Peter pulled himself away, grabbed a glass rod, and pushed the beaker back from the edge of the counter. "Oh, man, I'm going to have to start over."

"I'll get out of your hair." Tony knew he had difficulty concentrating with Peter in the room sometimes. It made sense that the reverse was also true. Tony could only imagine how much worse it was going to be now. "Good luck."

"Thanks," Peter said distractedly, already absorbed in the work.

Tony let himself out, a bounce in his step.

—

Seven was too early, especially because Tony had to get up earlier than that, first for getting ready, then for picking Peter up, then to actually get to the golf course.

Peter picked up his phone on the third ring. "Mr. Stark? Is something wrong?"

"I'm downstairs," Tony said, biting back irritation at both the wait and getting "Mr. Stark"ed just for checking on Peter's E.T.A. "Were you sleeping? Are you not ready yet? What, were you planning on going golfing in your pajamas?"

"Mr. Stark, it's five-thirty in the morning," Peter said.

"You said you wanted to be on the course at seven," Tony reminded him.

"No, I said you could pick me up at seven." The sleep in Peter's voice was clearing. He sounded more awake now. "My alarm doesn't go off for another thirty minutes."

"Oh." Tony drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "Reasonable mistake. Anyone could make it. Look, I'll go grab us something to eat. You grab a shower. We'll meet halfway." Compromises were how any good relationship worked. Pepper had taught him that—mostly by walking away whenever Tony failed to compromise. Lesson finally learned. "What do you want on your McMuffin?"

"No, no, I'll come down. Just let me pull some clothes on."

Tony would kind of like to go up, actually, and see Peter without those clothes, maybe join him for a shower. Then again, it wasn't like Tony actually had a parking spot to pull into here, idling at the curb, and dorm showers were gross. Best option: Peter came down, they went back to _Tony's_ for that shower, and they forgot all about golfing.

"I promise, I want to golf with you," Peter said. He sounded sincere. So … fine. They were going golfing.

How was it that Tony could look but not touch for the last two years, no problem despite the persistent tug of attraction, but the second they were both single, all he wanted to do was push Peter against the nearest flat surface, vertical or horizontal, and show Peter exactly how much Tony wanted him? It wasn't fair. Taking it slow sucked. Golf was boring. Surely Peter would appreciate a quick blowjob in the back of Tony's car more, especially if it were followed up by an entire day spent in bed.

"I believe you," Tony said, resigned to it. "I'll be back. I'm not exactly going to go without you." That would defeat the purpose of a date. "Grab a shower. Wake up. I'll bring back coffee, too."

Look, they were getting coffee after all. Terrible, terrible coffee. If nothing else, they'd be starting with a show of Tony's devotion.

—

When Tony got back, Peter was waiting at the curb, wet hair dripping into the collar of his shirt. In the time Tony was considering whether he wanted to go for a hug or a kiss when he got out to greet him, Peter had already gone for the door, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Are these hash browns for me?" Peter asked as he grabbed the paper bag.

"Anything you want in there is yours," Tony said. He settled for an awkward shoulder pat, because Peter was hungry and already digging in. "Save me a pancake."

Peter, who had rolled up two pancakes and shoved them whole into his mouth, shot Tony a thumbs up. His cheeks bulged like a chipmunk. A tiny bit of pancake stuck out of his mouth until Peter started chewing. Tony couldn't believe how much he adored this kid.

"Pass me a sausage McMuffin?" Tony said.

They ate while Tony drove. Peter ate faster than Tony did, plowing his way through the whole bag, then rested his head against the window. His food coma turned into a light doze.

"Next date, we're doing something closer to home," Tony said.

Peter made a soft sound, but otherwise didn't answer. The corner of Tony's mouth kicked up. His heart felt full at having Peter sleepy and sated next to him, even if the context was different than Tony would prefer. Tony reached a hand out across the console and laid it over Peter's where it rested on his thigh. He kept it there for less than a minute before he needed both hands on the wheel, but he thought this date was starting off pretty well after all.

—

"I think we have all learned a very important lesson here," Tony said. "A lesson that superpowers do not translate into proficiency at sports."

"I could have told you that," Peter groused. He'd just lost his tenth ball into the woods. Tony was pretty sure some unfortunate employee would find at least one embedded in a tree. "What do you usually like about this? Because right now, I'm not seeing the appeal."

"The excuse to day-drink while making terrible jokes about sticks, balls, and getting it in the hole," Tony answered honestly. "I don't think I've finished a single hole sober until this point."

"Am I your first?" Peter asked, getting into the spirit of the thing.

Tony, though—Tony wasn't joking, was entirely too sincere when he said, "I hope you'll be my last."

"Golfing sober can't be that terrible," Peter deflected. 

Slow. Word of the day was still slow. Peter wasn't ready for that yet.

"But you agree that it's terrible?" Tony asked.

"At least I got to drive a golf cart," Peter said.

—

When they made their way back to the clubhouse for lunch—thick, juicy burgers with cheddar cheese and crisp salads on the side—Peter was smiling despite having lost or destroyed every ball he'd been given.

"Not so terrible after all?" Tony asked, nudging Peter's foot with his own.

"I'm just glad to spend the day with you," Peter said.

"Me, too," Tony said warmly.

Tony left his foot pressed against Peter's, not quite a game of footsie under the table, but a form of flirting nonetheless, a simple symbol of, "I'm here, I like you, and I want to be close."

—

It was getting dark when Tony dropped Peter off. They'd stopped at a drive-through on the way back. It was a sign of how much Tony liked Peter that he'd let Peter choose when Peter's choice was Taco Bell.

"I had a good time today," Tony said when they were parked in the loading zone.

"I had a good time having a bad time," Peter said, expression bright in the dimming light.

"Let's never go golfing again," Tony said.

Peter laughed. He reached out and squeezed Tony's forearm. "Seriously, Mr. Stark. Thank you."

Tony frowned. He was still getting "Mr. Stark"ed? Really? "What's it going to take for you to call me by my first name on a regular basis? I thought after today, if nothing else, I've earned it."

"Losing our balls to a water hazard was definitely a bonding experience," Peter said, tone light, "but I think I need something more to break the habit."

Something more like Tony following Peter up and rewarding him for every time he called out Tony's name? Because Tony would be up for that. Hell, he'd even be willing to take a "Mr. Stark" in those circumstances.

"Good night, Mr. Stark," Peter said softly, withdrawing to open the door, and Tony had a new complaint. He didn't even get a good night kiss?

Then again, he did get a whole day with Peter. It was greedy to want more. (Tony was very greedy.) Tony put on a smile—not difficult, considering there was one lurking under the surface any given moment since Peter had agreed to a date—and said, "Good night, Peter."

—

For their next date, Tony took Peter to dinner. He waited to call Peter until _after_ he was out of the car and waiting by the passenger door. Tony opened his arms for a hug when Peter came out of the building and was rewarded with Peter burying his face in Tony's shoulder for a good thirty seconds. Tony squeezed him gently, then said, "Let's go. Dinner reservations, and I'm parked in a tow zone."

"If you parked in visitors parking—" Peter said.

"Then you'd have to walk, and what sort of date would I be to make you trek that distance?"

"Ha ha," Peter said, but Tony knew he was amused deep down. Deep, deep down. "You're very funny."

"I am," Tony agreed. "So funny I even amuse myself, and I'll have you know I'm a very tough crowd."

"You're something, all right," Peter said, but that was a smile, so Tony was obviously winning here.

"I hope you're in the mood for French food," Tony said, going around to the driver's side. "If you want to eat elsewhere, I am vetoing Mexican, because you have no palette for it."

"You eat the burgers at Burger King," Peter said as they got in the car. "You have no room to judge me."

"You have no appreciation for the nicer things in life," Tony said.

"Agree to disagree." Considering Peter was looking right at Tony when he said it, his gaze dipping down to where Tony had left a button undone, Tony was going to take that as a win, too.

—

But when Tony dropped Peter off, he still didn't get an invitation up after. Maybe Tony should be making Peter pick him up. Sure, Peter didn't have a car, but Tony could fix that easily. Peter could have his choice of make and model.

Sure, Tony had told himself he would reject any and all offers and cite wanting to take it slow as the reason, but it would have been nice to be asked. Then again, there was no way Tony could've actually held to that, so—

Taking it slow. Tony could do this. Tony was doing this.

"Next weekend," Tony said before Peter could get out of the car, "why don't you come by my place? We could watch a movie."

Peter paused, hand on the door handle. "You don't have anything else you'd rather do?"

"We can go to a museum or something if you want," Tony offered.

"No, I meant—" Peter shook his head. He smiled, but it was off somehow. "It doesn't matter. I don't think I've had so many weekend plans in a row since M.J. stopped making them for me, but yeah. I'm happy to hang out at home with you."

"Can we make it a rule not to talk about our exes?" Tony asked with a wince. That was serious tenth date material. Tony was ever and always willing to forgo the three date rule, but bringing up exes now was moving too fast for _him_. Not least because he didn't want to hear that Peter wasn't over M.J. yet and might never be. "At least, not yet?"

"Sure. I'm happy to do that, too." Peter didn't look happy right now, though. 

Tony didn't know what he could do to fix it. Peter opened the door. He got out of the car. He went into the building alone.

Next weekend, Tony vowed, he wouldn't care about taking it slow. He'd pull out all the stops. Rose petals everywhere. Unscented candles. Silk sheets and champagne. 

It wasn't quite Netflix and chill, but Tony thought Peter would enjoy Tony's version more.

—

"We need Peter for this," Rhodey said on video call that Wednesday. "You're going to have to find something else to do on Saturday."

"What, no. We have plans. Very important plans." Which involved Peter naked, which made them all the more important than whatever Rhodey needed. "I've got dibs. The Avengers can have another weekend. Try a year from now. He can pencil you in then."

"You can host your sad singles meeting another weekend," Rhodey said with all the heartlessness of someone who'd hosted the first week of Tony throwing himself a pity party at his place, only to discover that Tony and Pepper hadn't been together for months.

("What do you mean, you're okay with her dating again?" Rhodey had asked. "It's been a week since the divorce went through. I thought you'd be freaking out even more than you already were and I was going to have to dig you out of my couch cushions."

"It's been six months since she filed," Tony had said as he'd tried and failed to stack some empties. "What, did you expect her to wait forever? Because I appreciate you being on my side, but that's really not fair to her."

"What do you mean, it's been six months?" Rhodey had asked, at which point Tony had realized that oh, yeah, oops, forgot to mention that when he'd showed up on Rhodey's doorstep with a bag and the earnest desire to wallow for a while in his failures.)

"Excuse me, but there is nothing sad or single about me right now," Tony said.

"So you have no excuse to monopolize his time," Rhodey said.

"No, that is my exact excuse to monopolize his time." Rhodey could stare all he liked, but Tony was a changed man who wasn't going to focus on superheroics to the detriment of his romantic relationship.

"You're dating Peter. Peter Parker. Yea high." Rhodey waved his hand a couple inches too low like he thought Peter was still a teenager. "You met him when he was in high school. That Peter? The one we are talking about right now?"

"I get that you're judging me, and, honestly, I'm judging myself, but I'm also too happy to feel bad about this. If you want to guilt trip me, you're going to have to wait for the shine to wear off. Come back in a couple years when I'm working my way up to a proposal and freaking out about it."

"Oh, this isn't judgment yet. This is disbelief." Yeah, that did look more like doubt on Rhodey's face than disappointment. "You seriously expect me to believe you're dating Peter."

"Why would I lie about that?" Tony asked.

Rhodey paused. "Okay, I believe you. But does _Peter_ know you had an important date? Because I told him first, and he was on board with this. He just wanted me to make sure you'd have company this weekend if you needed it." Aw, Peter was so thoughtful, even if a weekend with Rhodey would have been very, very different from the one Tony had planned for Peter. For one thing, he and Rhodey would actually watch the movies in Tony's queue.

"In retrospect, I could have made it clearer that I had capital P plans this weekend rather than downgrading to watching Netflix and eating popcorn as we begin the inevitable descent into the sweatpants and staying in stage of a relationship." Though Tony was really looking forward to that, too, even if his ideal version involved more quiet tinkering together in his personal workshop than catching up on _Stranger Things_. "It's fine. We can combine date night with superheroics." Actually, that was pretty much the best of both worlds. Tony didn't have to worry about destroying his relationship by going out and doing dangerous things, because his partner would literally be right there with him.

"We needed someone to go undercover," Rhodey said. "You aren't a good fit for that."

"I can do undercover. I'm great at undercover. Who's going to expect me to actually be Tony Stark at … wherever it is you're sending us? It'll be fine."

"It's a couples cruise," Rhodey said.

"Then it's perfect. Peter and I are already a couple. We've got this in the bag."

"He was supposed to be a new hire," Rhodey said.

"Then this will be an upgrade for him," Tony said.

"No matter what I say, you're going to show up anyway, aren't you?" Rhodey knew Tony so well.

"It's date night with Peter. Of course I will."

Rhodey sighed. "I'll make sure we change the cover. _You_ can tell your boyfriend you've coopted Avengers business for a romantic getaway."

Okay, now Rhodey was judging him.

—

"So I probably should have asked you first," Tony opened with a brief attention-getting knock on the sill of the lab door and the acknowledgment that he'd made a decision for the both of them, because that was the sort of thing that had gotten him in trouble with any number of people over the years, and he hadn't been dating most of them at the time, "but in my defense, you could have let me know the change in plans yourself instead of siccing Rhodey on me, so in a way, we're both guilty here."

"Asked me what?" Peter said, right on board, no pointed hellos or asking how his day was going. This was another reason Tony loved him. Peter put down the web grenade he'd been playing with and gave Tony his full attention.

"We're going on the couples cruise as a couple," Tony told him.

"We're going undercover together?" Peter asked. "The two of us? As a couple?"

"I'm sure it will be a real hardship to act like you're into all this—" Tony waved a hand down the length of his body, grinning at Peter. "—but I'm confident you'll find a way."

"You've caught me. That is exactly what I'm worried about," Peter said.

"Here, let's practice." Tony walked his way right into Peter's personal space. He sat in Peter's lap. The wheeled stool moved a bit, and Peter's arms came around Tony to steady him. Tony did his best to channel one half of a normal couple. "Hi, dear. How's your day going?"

"Weird," Peter said, but he wasn't unaffected. His eyes flitted down to look at Tony's mouth before he looked away. "Very weird."

"Want to talk about it?" Tony put his arms around Peter's neck. He leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing against Peter's. Tony really, really wanted to kiss him. They were nearly at their third date. Surely, no matter how slow they were going, a little bit of light making out was on the table here.

"I'm not sure that would make it any better," Peter said. 

"Would a blowjob help?" Tony asked, because he literally couldn't help himself.

"Whoa, that's—uh—" Peter flushed. "I think that's enough practicing, Mr. Stark. I was kind of in the middle of something. I should get back to it."

But his hands were on Tony's hips. When Tony wriggled in his lap, he could feel Peter reacting. "Are you sure?"

Peter looked pained. "Pretty sure, yeah."

Tony got up. He could wait. Apparently slow was much slower than he'd anticipated. "Okay. But if you change your mind—"

"I don't think we're going to have any problem with people thinking I'm not attracted to you," Peter said.

"You're right." Tony grinned again. He ruffled Peter's hair. "We've got this."

At least now _Tony_ knew that attraction wasn't the problem here. When he walked out, he heard Peter drop his head against the workbench.

"I don't got this," Peter said.

Tony wanted to go back, test their self-control until it snapped. But he respected Peter and Peter's decisions. He kept going, walking down the hall and toward Rhodey's office.

—

Okay, there was one problem with this cover.

"This isn't a couples cruise. This is a cruise for swingers," Tony said unhappily from his position sprawled in the visitors chair as he waved the pamphlet accompanying the mission file at Rhodey.

"They generally want mostly couples on those sorts of cruises." Rhodey didn't even have the decency to look at Tony, absorbed in his computer screen.

"I'd accuse you of trying to sabotage this relationship in a misguided bid to save me from myself, but you weren't even aware Peter and I were dating until this morning." Tony looked back at the pamphlet. "I'm going to have to pretend I'm open to the possibility of letting someone else touch Peter. This may be a problem."

"Or you could pretend to be the ridiculously jealous older boyfriend overcompensating by taking his hot young boyfriend on a cruise advertised toward swingers." Rhodey's voice was bland. "At least two-thirds of that would even be true."

"People are going to flirt with him," Tony fumed. "In front of me. And I'm going to have to go along with it."

"No one is going to have to sabotage your relationship, because you're on track all by yourself." Rhodey sighed. He finally met Tony's distressed stare. "You'll be fine. Peter's not going to throw away his ideal long-shot relationship that, honestly, none of us thought you'd ever actually go for in favor of a weekend fling. Especially not when you'll both be there _on a mission_."

"You think Peter and I have an ideal relationship?" Tony asked. Even though Rhodey would have no idea to know what their relationship was like, Tony felt warmed by Rhodey's faith in them.

"No. I think you're the ideal by which he judged most of the people he was dating." Oh. Not quite so flattering in one way, but very promising in another. "Look, some of us have actual work to do. You've got your briefing. Please read it. Or don't. Either way, I am too busy to puff up your ego. If you're that worried about it, talk to Peter."

"Peter's also busy," Tony said.

Rhodey looked sympathetic. That didn't stop him from saying, "Tony, I say this with love: get out."

"We're still on for dinner next Wednesday, though, right?"

"Unless something comes up, yes. We'll do our monthly catch up." Rhodey smiled briefly at Tony.

Reassured, Tony got up and got out of Rhodey's office.

—

Someone had put Peter in blatant tourist clothes. He had on khaki shorts, an oversized Hawaiian flower print shirt, a baseball cap, and an honest to goodness fanny pack. The only thing that said this was still Peter was the dorky science joke t-shirt under the Hawaiian print shirt. Somehow, he looked incredibly attractive in the outfit, but Tony wanted to take it off—only partly because he wanted to get Peter naked for once—and burn it. 

"No," Tony said. "Absolutely not."

"That's what you're wearing undercover?" asked the S.H.I.E.L.D. minion they were coordinating with.

"Yes." Tony was wearing jeans and a hoodie over a tank top, with his own baseball cap and sunglasses. "It's worked for me before." Admittedly, he'd also been recognized by a super fan, but Tony was confident in his ability to bluff his way through. "If you don't have a decent clothing budget, I promise I can make up the deficit. Hell, we can put him in my clothes if we need to." Tony would really like that, actually, though it was probably better to give Peter clothes that were fitted for him.

"What's wrong with this?" Peter asked, looking down at his outfit.

"What's not wrong with that?" Tony stalked forward, grabbed the fanny pack by its plastic buckle, and pushed in the sides. Peter obediently went still for Tony, who unthreaded it with a click, then held it up. "Seriously? This is like one big 'rob me' sign in giant glowing red letters."

Tony tossed it to the side. Peter reached out and caught it. "I like it. It's convenient. I can put the Iron Spider suit casing in it."

Tony barely held back a choking noise. Peter was killing him. "I designed that to be worn under your shirt."

"Which I won't be wearing when we're at the pool," Peter said like he thought that was a good enough reason to put Tony's beautiful tech in an easy to steal container.

"I'm breaking up with you," Tony said, though he didn't mean it.

Peter rolled his eyes, fortunately knowing exactly how serious to take that. "If you feel that strongly about it, I can keep my shirt on for the weekend. But I'm keeping the pack."

"Maybe we can work this out," Tony allowed. "But please. Let's put you in something else. S.H.I.E.L.D. has to have something better."

"This came from my closet." Peter smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt. "Except the overshirt. I borrowed that from Ned."

"If you're borrowing clothes, you should borrow mine." Tony had changed his mind. If Peter was willing to steal clothes from loved ones, Tony was going to set him loose on his wardrobe after all. Tony also put his hands on Peter's—Ned's—shirt, undoing more buttons. "I have enough in my luggage to share until we can buy you better clothes."

The S.H.I.E.L.D. minion cleared her throat. Peter startled and took a step back. "We're on a schedule here."

Right. Cruise first. Discussion about fixing Peter's wardrobe problems later.

"What do you say, Peter? Ready for our first romantic vacation together?" Tony asked, grinning invitingly.

"Can't wait," Peter said, his tone oddly flat.

Tony understood Peter's reticence. He would prefer their first one was all theirs, too. Tony would make it up to him by taking him really special for their next one.

—

They boarded the cruise in Miami. Tony was regretting his thin blue hoodie. He took it off and tied the arms around his waist as they got out of the car. He offered Peter a pair of sunglasses, who took them with an expression of relief. Tony smiled to see them perched on Peter's face. Step one of dressing Peter entirely in things owned or made by Tony complete. Next was getting him out Ned's shirt. Tony had plans for it. Terrible, terrible plans.

Peter only had one suitcase and insisted on carrying some of Tony's luggage, too. As Tony had packed enough for both of them, he decided he'd allow it. If Peter wanted to show off his flexing muscles via casual displays of super strength, Tony was here for it.

When they boarded, their luggage was taken to their room, all but the small day bag Tony had packed and Peter's fanny pack that made Tony die a little inside every time it caught his attention. They attended the muster drill held just before the ship embarked, then found a place on the middle of an upper deck to sit while Peter adjusted to being on board a ship.

"Have to admit, I was kind of worried about this," Tony said as he passed Peter another ginger chew from his bag. "Now I'm even more glad I decided to crash the party. I got us a cabin much higher up than crew quarters."

Peter pillowed his head on his arms, slumped against the bar's counter. He had a Sea Band on one wrist, but it wasn't helping that much. "Aren't cruise ships supposed to have stabilizers that make you feel like you're barely moving?"

"Yeah, but you have an advantage over the rest of us." Tony ran a hand up and down Peter's back, doing his best to soothe him. Tony's drink remained untouched. "Or disadvantage in this case."

"I should've told Rhodey no," Peter said pitifully. Tony was too concerned to be offended that Rhodey got his nickname, while Tony was still Mr. Stark even on their third date. "I'm going to be useless."

"The important part will be on dry land," Tony reminded him. "And maybe it'll get better. You'll adjust." Tony made a split second decision. "Come on, our room should be ready now. Maybe lying down will help."

—

Peter sprawled out on the bed after abandoning his shoes at the door. He buried his face in the pillows. 

Tony crossed to the balcony doors. "Fresh sea air, yes or no?"

"Please, no," Peter said.

"Would it being dark help or hurt?" Tony asked.

"Don't know," Peter mumbled.

Tony drew the blinds. He turned off the lights. He climbed in bed, put his back to the headboard, and drew Peter's head into his lap. Tony ran his fingers through Peter's hair over and over again. Peter made a miserable noise and pressed his face against Tony's thigh.

"Try to get some sleep." Tony kept stroking Peter's hair until his breathing evened out. Not quite the way Tony had imagined getting Peter into bed. Tony bent down and pressed a kiss to the crown of Peter's head. Voice soft, Tony said, "Admittedly not the best third date. I'll make it up to you."

—

When Peter woke up, he seemed like he was feeling better. He sat up stiffly, blinking in the dim light that filtered past where the blinds had slipped a little.

"Did I sleep in your lap that whole time?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Don't worry. My legs only went a little numb," Tony said. He stretched. "Were you feeling up to getting dinner? We can order in if you aren't up to formal dining. You should try to eat something."

"Right. Yeah." Peter rubbed at his eyes. "Let me get changed."

"Did you pack a suit in your suitcase?" Tony checked.

"Formal dining isn't that formal on this cruise." Peter pulled out a pair of khakis. "It's supposed to be resort casual."

"So it's not really formal dining at all." Tony hummed. "I feel lied to." Also like he needed a new plan of attack for getting Peter dressed up. Tony had brought a formal suit fitted to Peter's measurements. He'd intended to offer it when Peter's clothes were hopelessly wrinkled. What kind of cruise didn't require black tie every night? 

Peter switched out his shorts for the khakis, but there was nothing to see in the low light. When Tony heard the sound of a zipper being pulled up, he got up and opened the curtains again. Tony pulled off his tank top as he eyed the garment bags he'd brought. 

"I may have overprepared," Tony admitted.

"Uh huh," Peter said.

When Tony glanced over, Peter looked away. He'd almost certainly been staring. Tony smirked to himself. He wasn't a twenty-one year old with unnaturally defined abs, but he did alright.

"Better overdressed than underdressed." Tony stripped off his jeans as he played meenie minie moe in his head over which suit to choose.

"At this rate, you're going to be undressed. Pretty sure they're not going to let us in if you're naked."

"My birthday suit is my best suit." Tony snagged the black with strips of red by the hanger and waved it at Peter, drawing his attention back toward Tony. "But this'll do for second best, right?"

"Please put on pants," Peter said with a pained expression, but he was staring at the line of dark hair trailing down Tony's stomach into his briefs, so Tony was going to take it as a compliment.

"You're hungry, huh?"

"Starving." 

Tony put on pants. He followed it with the rest of his suit in a reverse strip tease. Peter kept looking away with a guilty expression, then looking back, like he was trying to give Tony privacy, then remembered he had implicit permission to stare all he liked and could sneak another glance.

"Like what you see?" Tony teased lightly as he did up the last button he was going to bother with, leaving three undone.

"It's a nice suit," Peter allowed.

"I brought enough to share," Tony offered.

"Resort casual," Peter reminded him.

"At least change into a fresh shirt," Tony said. "You could fit the whole tacky resort in that one."

"I like this shirt," Peter said.

"Yeah, enough to steal it from your friend." Tony drifted closer, undoing buttons in unsubtle encouragement. Peter let him, holding very, very still. "But you wouldn't want to spill anything on it, would you? Be the sort of friend who's conscientious with others' belongings." Tony pushed the shirt off Peter's shoulders, feeling only satisfaction as it fluttered to the cabin floor. "I've got another overshirt if you really want one. Or a blazer. I packed several blazers. More than I could wear in all three nights."

"I wouldn't want to spill anything on something of yours, either," Peter said. His voice was unsteady. He took a step back before bending to grab Ned's shirt. He turned away and packed it away in a separate laundry bag he'd brought with him.

"It's an open offer if you change your mind," Tony said.

"I'll keep that in mind." Peter closed his suitcase back up. "Ready when you are."

Tony smiled slowly. "I promise that I'm very ready for you."

"Great," Peter said. His own smile was fixed. "Let's go."

Tony put a hand to Peter's back as they walked out the door.

—

The entire point of joining the cruise was for the second day. There was a resort island that allowed day excursions. S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers could've gone in by quinjet or a boat of their own, but there was every chance that going in guns blazing would only scare the Chitauri-worshipping death cult they'd been tracking underground. No one wanted to let any of them escape the net, not least because this one supposedly had managed to get its hands on Chitauri tech.

Until Tony and Peter got there, though, their time was their own. 

"What did you want to do tonight?" Tony asked after they were done eating. "There are shows. There's a spa." They could go back to their room. "There's a library bar on one of the upper decks. You're old enough to drink now. We could curl up with a good book and a bottle of something nice." Tony checked the options on his phone. "There's even putt-putt if you haven't had enough of golf yet and want to go back for another round."

"Is there seriously a Build-A-Bear?" Peter was also looking at Tony's phone, reading upside down despite his earlier seasickness.

"Did you want to build a couple boyfriend bears?" Tony asked. He flipped the screen's orientation so it faced Peter. "We could bring back souvenirs. There are other shops, too."

"I'm good." Peter gestured around them. "This is all more than enough. I'll take some pictures later. That'll be plenty to remember this by." Peter pushed his chair back. "But if we're done, we should probably clear out and let someone else have the table."

Tony pocketed his phone and joined Peter in making his way out of the dining room. "I notice you still haven't made a decision for what we're going to do tonight. I don't want to be one of those couples where we only do what I want."

"Wasn't there a thing about free cocktails on the upper deck?" Yes. It was one of the more blatant activities intended for meeting and picking up other people.

"We can go if you like." Tony would prefer doing something just the two of them, but he had left it up to Peter. "Or I can buy you cocktails in one of the many other bars available throughout the ship instead, no mingling required."

"If we're a couple," Peter said as he reached out and grabbed Tony's hand, threading their fingers together, "we should probably go do couple things." In a quieter voice that was probably meant to be discreet, but carried just fine, Peter continued, "And it'll give us a good chance to check out the other passengers."

Tony knew Peter meant for suspicious activity, in case anyone on board was involved (unlikely, though a distant possibility), but it didn't sound that way. Tony grinned, because when it came down to it, he wasn't too worried about some stranger tempting Peter away. "Sure. We can check out all the other couples. We can rank them from most to least attractive, then argue over who we're not taking back to our room."

Peter shot Tony a look. "Yeah, that sounds like so much fun."

"Doesn't it?" Tony rubbed his thumb along Peter's. "You have such great ideas, honey."

Peter let the endearment pass without comment this time. Look at them go. At this rate, Peter might actually drop the "Mr. Stark" thing by the end of the cruise.

—

Ten minutes into cocktails, seated at a small round table on tall, low-backed chairs, they got their first approach who wasn't put off by Tony looking them up and down in obvious appraisal and then just as obviously dismissing them. It was a man in a polo shirt who, in an egregious display of bad form, was there by himself. 

"Sorry, it's just—are you Tony Stark?" the guy asked.

"I get that a lot," Tony said. "The resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?"

Peter turned his head to hide his smile. Tony lived to entertain.

"I guess you are kind of old for it," the guy said. Tony strangled the urge to protest that he wore his age well, thank you very much.

"He's not _that_ old," Peter said. Thank you, Peter.

"Don't you have to say that?" the guy asked with a flirtatious smile. Tony decided he hated him.

"I don't have to do anything." Peter was pointedly holding Tony's hand again, fingers tangled together on the frosted glass top of the table. He'd given some of his own unwelcoming glares when a pair of twenty-somethings had approached, angled toward Tony like maybe they were going to ask for an autograph or a quick threesome—or both—only to veer off at the last moment. 

Tony brought their joined hands up to press a kiss to Peter's knuckles. "I'm glad you appreciate me despite my advanced age, sweetheart."

"Maybe there's something to be said for experience," Peter said loyally, almost flirtatiously, and Tony bit back an offer to show Peter some of the advantages of said experience. They were awful at this undercover thing, but at least they hadn't let on so far that they were anything but an established couple who'd been together long enough that it wasn't weird they were on vacation together. Tony would've happily taken Peter on vacation anyway, but even he had to admit that was usually a step beyond three weeks.

"What about getting some new experiences?" the guy said.

"Not interested," Tony said.

"I can answer for myself," Peter protested. He followed that up with a direct stare at the guy, who just wasn't taking the hint. "Not interested."

The guy held his hands up. "Sorry. I just thought, considering everything—"

"Actively looking doesn't mean undiscerning," Tony said. "If you were expecting the desperate singles cruise, you got on the wrong ship."

"Wow," the guy said disbelievingly. But he left, and no one else looked like they wanted to give it a go after that, so mission accomplished.

"You are so bad at this," Peter said. He looked terribly amused, lips twitching at the corners. "I mean, I thought I was a bad choice for this, but you're not even trying."

"If they can't weather two minutes with a jealous boyfriend, they don't deserve to talk to you," Tony said firmly. "Even if they can, they probably still don't deserve to talk to you."

"That's weirdly sweet." Peter picked up his drink with a considering expression. "Did you want to find something else to do?"

"Whatever you want," Tony said.

—

They ended up going putt-putting after all. Peter was much better at it than regular golf. They didn't lose any balls off the side of the ship, at least.

Afterward, they found a place toward the prow to watch the sun set. Peter stood at the rail, and Tony, feeling emboldened by Peter holding his hand all evening, stood at Peter's back, arms around his waist, and rested his chin on Peter's shoulder.

"This is nice," Peter said, eyes on the horizon.

"Very nice," Tony agreed, eyes on Peter.

—

When they got back to the room, Peter hesitated by the bathroom door. "Is it okay if I take first shower?"

"Go for it."

Peter bundled up a pair of boxers and pulled out a clear plastic ziplock bag of various personal hygiene products. Tony went out on the balcony while he waited his turn. He didn't have expectations—or if he did, they were that nothing was going to happen tonight. Nothing except for sleeping in the same bed with another person for the first time in months.

Tony shouldn't be nervous. It was just sleeping together. He used to do it all the time, though never with Peter. Peter _had_ already slept in his lap. It would be weird to offer to sleep on the couch, wouldn't it? 

Tony's skin felt too small. Should he warn Peter about the nightmares? It wasn't like he could call the armor in his sleep anymore. F.R.I.D.A.Y. knew not to react to him when he was dreaming. And he'd gotten pretty good at waking quietly at the end there, at slipping out of bed without disturbing the other occupant. 

When Peter opened the balcony doors, his hair was wet. He wasn't wearing pajamas, was clad only in the clean boxers he'd taken in the bathroom with him. His nipples pebbled in the cool breeze blowing against the side of the ship. Tony's mouth went dry.

"Bathroom's free," Peter said. "I saved you plenty of hot water."

"Be there in a minute," Tony said.

Peter laid claim to the left side of the bed, covering up all that bared skin with the top sheet and comforter. Tony stripped out of the suit, not making a production of it this time, and hung it back up. He grabbed pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and went into the bathroom for a shower of his own. Hot water wasn't a concern, but he turned it all the way to cold.

By the time Tony came out, Peter was asleep. Tony stood there a minute just watching him, staring unabashedly at the dark fan of his eyelashes against his cheeks, at the lock of hair starting to dry into a little curl against his forehead. Tony rubbed at his sternum. His chest ached. He couldn't pretend it was anything physical.

Tony climbed into bed. He breathed in the smell of fresh water, of soap, of Peter's cheap shampoo. He closed his eyes. Eventually, he fell asleep.

—

"Did you know you snore?" Peter asked cheerfully the next morning as they ate on the balcony. Tony had ordered a breakfast tray delivered, and it had a mix of breakfast meats, french toast, regular toast, eggs, porridge, and yoghurt, as well as cut fruit. The crew member who'd delivered it had asked if Tony was sure he didn't need more than the two sets of flatware. 

"Vile lies," Tony said as he speared a sausage link and dipped it in a puddle of maple syrup.

"It's this sort of huffy nasal sound." Tony had not realized that _this_ was what he'd needed to worry about last night. "It's kind of cute."

"At least you recognize I'm attractive," Tony said once he'd swallowed.

"Yeah." Peter stared at the breakfast sandwich he was assembling, two pieces of bacon folded over scrambled eggs squished between two triangles of toast. "I never missed that."

—

They arrived at disembarkment early, because it would have been embarrassing to have come all this way and missed out on the event that was their whole purpose for being there. Peter was back in khaki shorts, a tee, and a baseball cap, plus the highly unfortunate fannie pack. As they all belonged to Peter, Tony didn't object or take any drastic action, just proffered a set of sunglasses again and smiled to himself when Peter accepted.

It was a promising start to the day.

—

"Are we sure there's an actual cult?" Tony asked. They'd wandered toward the northern end of the island for lack of a clear direction to start. "I didn't accidentally crash a hazing ritual instead, did I?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure how they expected me to find anything except that my luck's sometimes bad enough to stumble right into the middle of things."

"The Peter tingle thing doesn't help?" Tony wondered.

Peter got the adorably disgusted expression he got whenever anyone referred to it by that name. "Do you have to call it that?"

"Have you come up with a catchier name? Because I've told you before, I'm open to a snappy acronym." Tony poked at what looked to be the remains of a campfire on the beach with the tip of his shoe. "How about Timely Informative Notification and Good Luck Effect? You could call it the Peter tingle for short."

"I don't need superpowers to tell you that's awful," Peter said, but he was smiling.

—

They didn't find anything walking around the beach. It was a mission, but Tony had fun anyway. F.R.I.D.A.Y. got plenty of footage through Tony's glasses to analyze later. They went back toward the resort. 

"I don't think anyone's going to discuss their sinister plans by the pool," Peter said. He was walking along the edge of the ocean, along the wet sand. Waves kept reaching up and washing over the tops of his feet. 

"They're not doing it on the beach, either," Tony pointed out from his position of safety on dry sand.

"I bet we're the distraction." Peter put his hands in his pockets. "Somewhere, there's an actual operation going down with real S.H.I.E.L.D. agents."

"At least we got a vacation out of it," Tony said. 

"You could afford a vacation whenever or wherever you want," Peter said.

"I could," Tony agreed. "But this one is with you."

—

"I can't believe someone's actually discussing their sinister plans by the pool," Peter said.

"More near than by," Tony said, but he couldn't believe it, either. Who thought, _Oh, yes, the perfect place to discuss human sacrifice is in this cabana anyone could walk by?_ "Let's not talk about them talking about it and instead focus on finding a safe place to eavesdrop."

They claimed a lounging chair, far enough away not to be suspicious, but well within Peter's listening range—not that it mattered. Tony already had access to their phones. 

Peter lay down, and Tony curled up against him, his front pressed to Peter's side. He put one arm up, letting Peter rest his head against it like his own personal poorly designed neck pillow. The other, he draped across Peter's front. After a minute of lying there as Peter eavesdropped from across the poolside and F.R.I.D.A.Y. diligently recorded what they were saying, Tony gave in to temptation and ran his fingers down Peter's shirt to the hem, where it had ridden up from his swim shorts and exposed the soft skin of his belly. Tony slid his fingers along it, then, with no apparent objections from Peter, followed the urge to go a little further. His fingers crept up under the cotton of Peter's shirt, exploring the hard muscles of Peter's abs. Peter's breathing was unsteady.

"Mr. Stark," Peter said in a quiet, wobbly voice, his stomach muscles quivering under Tony's touch, jumping as Tony stroked the smooth skin over them and petted at the line of coarse hair trailing down from his navel.

"Too much?" Tony asked.

"It's really hard to concentrate when you're doing that."

"Sorry." Tony pressed a kiss to Peter's temple. He stilled his hand, let it just rest there. "I'll let you work."

F.R.I.D.A.Y. was feeding Tony a closed caption reading of the conversation. It had moved on from talk about kidnapping some poor schmuck named Jeremy and on to a meeting that evening once the cruise ship had left. Plenty of time to call in the troops to save him. Tony was not made for undercover work. This was so boring. How was it possible for a conversation about human sacrifice to be this boring? It was like being at a board of director's meeting for S.I., except Tony didn't have to pretend to be paying attention. Now the two cultists were fighting over whose turn it had been to bring the snacks for their little poolside tête-à-tête.

Tony tucked his head into Peter's shoulder and enjoyed the chance to cuddle with the sun beating down on them and warming him to his bones. It may have been boring, but Tony was perfectly happy to be where he was. He'd rather be bored with Peter than doing something exciting with anyone else.

—

After the cultists' meeting broke up, Tony and Peter got up. Peter pulled a small listening device out of his fanny pack and said, "Want to go plant some bugs?"

"Sure. We can have another romantic walk on the beach and anywhere else that looks like a good place for it."

They dropped them various places around the island, mostly walking hand in hand this time. There was a conference room in one of the main buildings that Tony shamelessly broke into, because maybe there were also more professional cultists who weren't having their meetings in the open. Peter had just applied one to the underside of the table when he turned suddenly and lunged for Tony. Peter grabbed him by the hips and pushed their mouths clumsily together.

It wasn't a great first kiss. Their noses bumped and their teeth clacked painfully together before Peter readjusted. It was more a surprise attack than a kiss. Tony would've preferred something gentler, something sweeter, something that let Peter know that Tony was fine waiting for as long as Peter needed for anything more. On the other hand, Tony had been waiting for weeks already, and he desperately wanted this.

"Is this really the time?" Tony asked, but he was already trying to get his hands up Peter's shirt, so he didn't really have room to talk here.

"This is exactly the time," Peter said with a significant look that, admittedly, went entirely over Tony's head.

And who was Tony to say no to that when he was using this entire mission as an excuse for an extended date? Tony bent his head and applied his mouth to the hollow of Peter's throat. He got his hands up Peter's shirt, palming at his back and sides, thinking, _Wow,_ and, _How far am I allowed to take this?_

The worst Peter could do was say no, right?

Tony dropped to his knees and went for Peter's fly. He'd gotten the button undone when the door banged open.

"What the hell?" said someone who was either a resort employee, a cultist, or both.

"You're not supposed to be in here," said another cultist or resort employee, surprisingly steady for having walked in on what would have been a blowjob in progress if Tony had had thirty more seconds.

"Sorry," Peter said, though he didn't sound sorry. He was looking down at Tony with wide eyes, pupils blown.

"Our bad," Tony said. He rebuttoned Peter's shorts. "But I mean, look at him. Can you blame me for not wanting to wait?"

"Yes," said the first employee.

"You need to leave," the second one insisted calmly.

"Really. Sorry," Peter said. He helped Tony up. They left.

—

Tony had thoughts about the fact that apparently the first time Peter kissed him was only to provide cover for being somewhere they weren't supposed to be.

They weren't good ones.

—

When it was time to get back on the boat, Tony said, "Okay, real question time. Everyone else has this handled, but we can join in or not, your choice."

They'd seeded surveillance devices all over the island. Tony had been in contact with Wanda, who was running point on this with Rhodey and Hill, and S.H.I.E.L.D. had confirmed that everyone involved was supposed to be gathered in place that night. Tony and Peter would be useful, but unnecessary. Chatter had made it clear that they weren't actually all that dangerous besides the kidnapping and murder thing. Any alphabet agency probably could have taken care of it.

Peter tilted his head. "Why wouldn't we?"

"Yeah." Tony shoved his hands in his pockets. "There's no compelling reason to finish out the cruise, is there?"

"Not that I can think of," Peter said slowly.

"Right." Tony took in a deep breath. "Back on the ship, then. When we're out of sight of the island, I'll fly us from the balcony in our room to meet up with the strike team."

—

Tony could take a hint. Sometimes it took him a while to get there, but he was getting there now.

Peter had said yes to the first date, but he'd kept his distance. Tony had been the one to reach out time and again. Peter had kept saying yes to subsequent dates, but he'd also kept that distance right up until they were undercover and he couldn't anymore. Tony had gone through an entire list of reasons for himself of why dating Peter was a bad idea. Maybe one of them was the same reason Peter had thought he couldn't say no.

It was fine. Well, it wasn't fine. Tony was a pushy asshole who'd maybe ruined one of the best things in his life because he was bad at reading what in retrospect were some pretty obvious signals. In his defense, he'd only ever seriously dated one person, and she'd made sure to be very clear with him every step of the way, never afraid to tell him no or draw a line. Before that, it had been a series of one night stands and brief liaisons, and Tony had been the one to be clear, always letting the other person know from the start that it was never going to be anything more than sex. He didn't have much experience with dating like a normal person. It was occuring to him far too late that just because Peter was attracted to Tony didn't mean he wanted to date him. It didn't even mean he actually wanted to have sex with him. Peter probably had his own list of reasons why it was a bad idea and he wasn't interested, even if he apparently hadn't felt comfortable sharing any of them with Tony.

But it _would_ be fine. When this was over, Tony would apologize. He'd ask for some time to himself, with none of their usual lab sessions catching up on what the other was working on, because he didn't think he could go right back to what he and Peter had had before. The thought of settling into something platonic—friendly and mentorly and never anything more—was like accepting he was going to pour salt every week into a self-inflicted wound. He could do it—he was going to do it, couldn't accept anything less than keeping Peter in his life—but Tony needed to give himself time to heal. 

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. Shit. This was Pepper all over again, only he'd never gotten the chance for anything real before it all fell apart.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked as Tony threw his hat in with the luggage. They'd pick it up when the cruise liner ended up back in Miami's port.

"I'm good," Tony said. "You ready?"

"Whenever you are," Peter said, because he was always on board with whatever Tony suggested. Really, Tony should have known better. How often did Peter tell Tony no?

"Great." Tony opened the door to the balcony. "Let's go."

—

In a weird coincidence, Jeremy the would-be human sacrifice was the single on a swingers cruise guy.

"I knew you were Tony Stark," Jeremy said as one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents helped him up from the temporary ritual sacrifice circle laid out in the sand on the beach where literally anyone could see it. 

Tony was left wondering why this mission had required the Avengers. Seriously. Even if the cultists had been carrying alien weaponry after all, Tony thought there was a non-zero chance they'd have all shot themselves after leaving the safety off. They needed to get a better quality of villain. This was just sad.

"No idea what you're talking about," Tony said.

"No one's going to believe me," Jeremy said excitedly as the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent got the bindings off.

"You're right there," Tony agreed. "No one's going to believe you."

"Who knew Tony Stark would be such a dick?" Jeremy said, rubbing his wrists.

"Literally anyone who's ever met me." 

Tony didn't know why he was over here talking to Jeremy when the excitement was all over. (Tony knew exactly why he was over here.) Across the beach, a ways off from the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and remains of the ruined ritual, Peter was making an expansive gesture as he spoke with Rhodey. Any minute now, Tony was going to walk over there and talk with him instead. Any minute now.

"Hey." Tony looked at Jeremy. "How would you like an autograph to remember this by? Something to commemorate your trauma properly?"

"He's not getting an autograph," the S.H.I.E.L.D. minion said.

"I knew you weren't so bad," Jeremy said.

No matter what the S.H.I.E.L.D. minion wanted, Tony vowed Jeremy was going to get his autograph. At least one person was going to go home happy tonight.

Jeremy wanted Tony to sign his dick.

"I can see why they decided to sacrifice you," Tony said.

So no one was going home happy after all. Maybe the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, who said, "We're going to need _your_ signature on this NDA."

Tony wandered off before he could hear the answer to that. Peter was speaking with Rhodey now. They were wandering back toward the speed boats most of their forces had arrived in. Tony caught up to them in time to catch Rhodey's, "You can still go back and finish the cruise. Tony paid for it. I know it wasn't your original plans, but it has to be better than whatever date Tony came up with on his own."

Tony kind of wished he'd stayed back to see if Jeremy could be talked down to a signature on his arm. Half-heartedly, Tony protested, "I'll have you know my ideas are all winners. You would be lucky to date someone half so thoughtful."

"You said you were going to stay in," Rhodey said like it was some kind of gotcha.

"With champagne and rose petals," Tony said with a lightness he didn't feel. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. The date was canceled in favor of the mission, and the mission's over. I'm headed home after this. Can I talk to the kid alone a minute?"

"Date?" Peter said. The lenses of the mask reacted to whatever expression he was making by widening.

Rhodey looked between them and said, "As far as I'm concerned, you can both go home. Don't forget your mission reports." Rhodey took off, leaving them alone on their little section of beach with relative privacy. The closest person was several dozen feet away.

"So we should probably talk," Tony said. He was tired despite having slept surprisingly well last night. Waking up to Peter's face a few inches from his own felt like it had happened last month instead of this morning. "Me first."

"Mr. Stark—"

"See," Tony cut in, talking over Peter, because he'd called dibs, and he hadn't gotten his say yet. "That's exactly the sort of thing that makes me think we need to talk, that we're on different pages here. I don't know what I have to do to earn you calling me Tony, but I don't want to have to. I want you to _want_ to call me by my name, to treat me like we're on equal footing here. I want you to actually want this, not to say yes because you think it's what _I_ want." 

Tony wasn't saying this right, his words fumbling and bordering on incoherent, but he trusted Peter to get what he meant. Fuck, it was impossible to tell what Peter thought behind his mask, the lenses wide, but his eyes invisible behind the opaque white. Tony felt far too exposed with his own armor put away, the casing resting heavy on his chest. 

"And it's—I'm sorry that it took me a while to get that you're not interested, to get that it's not a matter of taking it slow, but that you didn't want to start this in the first place. But, Pete, you have to know that you can say no to me. I may need some time to myself for a little while, but in the end, nothing has to change. I may be an asshole, but I'm not _that_ kind of asshole. I'd rather be your friend than an ex you never talk to again." Tony ran his hand through his hair. "That's it. That's what I wanted to say. Your turn."

Peter pulled his mask off. His face was pale and shocky. His eyes were wide. They gleamed in the light of the moon hanging heavy overhead. His voice was strained as he said, "That was a date? A real date?"

Oh. Tony didn't have time to decide how he felt that they'd had even less than he'd thought, because Peter was suddenly in his space, the grip of his gloves firm and uncomfortable against Tony's jaw. His lips were soft against Tony's, like a question, like an answer given in the hopeful affirmative. Their teeth didn't clack together this time. Their noses didn't bump. Peter pulled back, and whatever he saw on Tony's face was enough that he leaned in and kissed Tony again. Slowly, cautiously, Tony brought his hand up. He touched Peter's hair, which was tangled from the mask. He parted his lips the tiniest bit, and Peter licked at his bottom lip. Tony made a small sound, feeling like it was cut out of him, and Peter's mouth moved more firmly against his own, with purpose.

When Peter pulled away the next time, he said, "Mr. Stark—_Tony_—we weren't on the same page, but—" He kissed Tony again like punctuation, like emphasis. "I think we are now."

"You didn't know those were dates," Tony said carefully, lips practically tingling from Peter's touch.

"They were all dates?" Peter asked. Then, "Wait, when you offered that blowjob, _you were serious_?"

Tony started laughing, hysterical little giggles that came bubbling up, some combination of relief and disbelief. "Both times. Every time. Whenever you want." He rested his forehead against Peter's. "Can we start over? Let me try again. Peter, I would very much like to take you out on a date. Romantically. Not as friends, not for a mission, but two people who are attracted to each other and want to see where that takes them."

"Do we have to go golfing again?" Peter had a pleased smile on his face. "Because I'd kind of like to skip forward to the part where we've been dating long enough that you're asking me over to spend the weekend in bed."

"I'd like that, too," Tony said.

Peter kissed Tony again, but stopped to say, "Just making sure: this isn't a rebound thing, right? Because I thought you were taking your divorce really hard, and I want this, but I want it to be something more than a fling."

"It's not a rebound." Tony kissed Peter this time. "Wait, it's—you're not asking because you're worried it's a rebound for you, right?"

"I haven't dated anyone in months," Peter said. "Pretty sure that precludes any possibility of you being a rebound."

"What about M.J.?" Tony asked.

"We dated in _high school_." Peter looked genuinely confused.

"But you were always doing things on the weekend with her."

"Because she's my best friend after Ned and she actually stayed in the city." Peter's smile this time was amused. "We stopped doing things every weekend, but that's because _she_ started dating someone."

"We are definitely going to need to work on our communication." Tony smoothed his hand down Peter's hair. "For the record, trying to be as clear as possible, you can say no, but I'd really like it if you came home with me. We can do whatever you want, but if you're up for it, maybe we can see if the third time's the charm."

"For the record, this is a yes to all of that." Peter kept smiling. Tony stole another kiss. "But we should probably go somewhere else if we're going to keep, um, talking, because the beach in full view of everyone who showed up for this is not a good place for it."

—

They didn't rejoin the cruise, but they did finish out the weekend together. They even got around to watching a few movies—eventually. It was apparently their first real date, but they didn't take it slow. Tony had Peter spread out naked on his bed within twenty minutes of walking in the door.

Tony settled between Peter's legs, fingering him open and admiring his dick and all the pretty sounds he made as Tony both looked and touched. Tony meant to draw it out, but the instant he got his mouth on Peter's dick instead of just a hand, Peter came with a shout. Tony swallowed, because he didn't like to talk when his mouth was full, and wiped at his chin with the back of his left hand. His right he left where it was, two fingers inside Peter, but not moving.

"So when you said you were sensitive—"

Peter put a hand on his face. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not." Tony kissed Peter's thigh. "What's your refractory time look like?"

"Fast," Peter said.

"Can I touch you again, or does it hurt?" Tony followed up his question by trailing his left index finger up Peter's partial erection, which had gone down, but not disappeared.

"It hurts a little," Peter admitted, "but I like it."

"Let me know if that changes," Tony said and went right back to it, fucking Peter with his fingers as he let Peter fuck his mouth. After a bit, he added a third one.

"Wow, that's—" Peter fisted his hands in the sheets, hips twitching up in short rocking motions. "It's so good. You're so good at this."

Tony would like to think there were some advantages to his many years of sexual activity. He hadn't done this particular act in a long time, but it was like riding a bike, and he _was_ a genius. When Peter was fully hard again, Tony pulled off.

"I'd like to fuck you," Tony told Peter almost conversationally, applying more lubricant to his fingers and reapplying them to Peter's ass, because he wanted Peter nice and wet. Less wasn't more in this case. "Would you like that?"

Peter made an unintelligible noises that he followed up with an enthusiastic, "_Yes_." Belatedly, adorably polite even now, "Please. Yes. I'd like that."

They'd had the condom conversation earlier when Peter had listed the pros and cons of his superpowers when it came to sex, which had been like its own little bit of foreplay. ("I can't catch or carry anything, but I'm really, really sensitive to start and, um, I come a lot. Of times, I mean, not volume, though I haven't really measured that—anyway. It's. We don't need condoms if you don't want them, but if we do, I'll probably go through a bunch of them?" Tony had just wanted to know why Peter had listed multiple orgasms and sensitivity as downsides.) Tony hadn't bothered grabbing any earlier, and he didn't bother now, pulling out his fingers and slicking up his dick.

"Communication is key here. Let me know if there's anything you do or don't like. I know it may not seem like it, but I do take direction pretty well in the right circumstances." Tony crawled up the bed to kiss Peter. "This is very much a right circumstance."

"I'd like for you to stick your dick in me," Peter said, which was a direction Tony was happy to follow.

Tony stuck his dick in Peter, first the tip, then—as Peter muttered imprecations and urged Tony to give him the whole thing now—a bit more. Peter felt incredible. Tony kissed Peter's chin, his cheek, his jaw. He slid in slowly, taking his time and savoring the experience.

"I thought you said you could take direction," Peter complained.

"I am," Tony said. "You said to give it to you, and I'm giving it to you."

"If you went any slower, you wouldn't be moving."

Tony fully seated himself and smiled down at Peter. "There. Everything you asked for."

"Mr. Stark," Peter said, and oh, no, a return of that name should not be this satisfying. "Do you want me to beg? Because I can beg."

"Maybe later," Tony said. He started moving again, an easy in and out, angling it so he caught Peter's prostate with each thrust.

"Tony," Peter said, and that was even more satisfying. "Tony, please."

Tony reached down between them and pulled Peter off in fast, sharp counterpoint to the lazy way he was fucking Peter. Peter tipped his head back, face screwed up with what looked to be an almost painful pleasure, and came a second time.

"How are you holding up?" Tony asked, wiping his hand on Peter's abs next to where some of his semen had landed.

"Good. I'm good." Peter dug a heel into the small of Tony's back and pulled him in. "Keep going."

Tony kept going, his own pleasure building slowly upon itself. It was an ocean tide eroding his self-control. He kissed Peter over and over again, soft and gentle at first, but fiercer as he picked up the pace. It was good. It was so, so good, not least because it was Peter under him, Peter he was inside of, Peter whose voice was in his ear urging him to go faster, to go harder, to give it to Peter, everything Tony had in him.

"I want to," Tony gasped out near the end. "I want to give you everything."

"Come on," Peter said. "Come for me. Please. I want you to."

One last time, Tony followed his direction.

—

For the next weekend, Peter insisted he choose the date. "I've seen what it's like dating you. I'd like for you to see what it's like dating me."

"Whatever you want," Tony said.

When the date approached, though, Peter was nervous. He said, "Never mind, it's stupid. We can do what you want. I'm sure you've got a back-up plan. Let's do that."

"I took you golfing. I'm sure it can't be that bad."

"You don't have issues with heights outside of the armor, right?" Peter asked.

Tony wondered if they were going to go to an observation deck somewhere. He said, "Pete, honey, I live in a penthouse. Heights aren't a problem."

"It's just—" Peter clenched his hand in his backpack, which he'd brought with him for some reason. "The first real date I went on that wasn't a high school dance or a complete disaster or both, I took M.J. swinging with me. As Spider-Man." Peter pulled his backpack off. "I thought we could do the same."

"She liked it that much, huh?" Tony said, and somehow talking about exes before the tenth date didn't bother him so much when he knew Peter wasn't looking back, that he had his eyes fixed forward and firmly on Tony.

"Oh, no, she never wanted to do it again," Peter said with a grin. He opened the backpack to reveal a Spider-Man suit. "But I thought _you_ might think it would sound like fun."

"I do," Tony said.

And it was.

—

So yeah. Dating Peter? Was a great idea. Tony was going to keep doing it, preferably for the rest of his life. 

Fortunately, Peter agreed.


End file.
